


mon coeur

by 1V1



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Character Death, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Delusions, Fluff and Angst, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insanity, M/M, Necrophilia, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 07:15:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18245000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1V1/pseuds/1V1
Summary: Perhaps he'd been too hasty in his actions. Perhaps he'd made a mistake.Perhaps, he thought, he might have loved the man he killed.





	mon coeur

**Author's Note:**

> Ref from a friend why do i do this i dunno

Claws ran through dirty blond hair. He was due for a bath soon. Would likely make a fuss and fall into the water again. He was so clumsy these days, making him do all the work. Not that he minded. He was fine with tending to his favored. It was the least he could do after all, given what he made the man endure, what he made him think.  
The Devil brushed the blond hair out of Lucio’s eyes, the man not responding or stirring from his slumber. It was all just as well. He was expect to be tired. After all- he’d been drained of nearly everything in the ritual. Not that it had done much good in the end. The fool had thwarted his plans this time around, but it was an oddity- considering how far he had gotten, it would come to pass the fool’s body would eventually break down and die as all humans did. 

Humans that were not bonded with arcana at least. They had shuffled off that coil long ago- but Lucio? Lucio remained his. His loyal servant and- something. The Devil didn’t like to think about it at times, what Lucio was to him. Lover? Friend? Companion? He’d not been entirely kind but he had a facade to present, an illusion to eave and he’d had to make him believe. Mon coeur. His heart. Had he a heart surely, he mused, picking up his sleeping mortal love, Lucio had it. The wildness, the ferocity, they desires so thick they coated his tongue. 

As he carried him to the starlit shores of the edge of realms he could feel the eyes of another on him. The scent of wine and summer faint on his nose.  
“He’s gone.” The voice of the Hierophant was neither mocking or cruel. It was cold however as it spoke truth so bitter, so real that few dared voice it. After all who would be so bold enough to tell the devil.  
“He is dead old friend, you would do well to let him go.”

The Devil snorted, undressing Lucio with his magic, bathing him in the starlit waters as he always did.  
“When have we ever been friends?” Was the 15th arcana sneered in reply, red eyes burning with hate. The hierophant looked almost sad, and stranger still a bit melancholy. Once perhaps they had been close but that had been so long ago, it had left the minds of men and magicians. A shift of sand, the steps of the priestlike ram faded, leaving the goat to his sorrows. No arcana spoke to him these days. Grudges held long, but even then they rarely bothered each other. Yet they still would look in, keep an ear out. Eyes the Devil could feel but none spoke to him, not even when they gathered to discuss mending the realms to better see and hear and even touch the mortal plane. 

None ever dared tell him Lucio was dead, and he carried with him a corpse.

Yet he wasn’t dead to the Devil. Just sleeping. Slumbering until he could be revived. He owned Lucio’s soul after all, and he wasn’t allowed to go. To leave the Devil behind just yet. So long as the body was in his hands, so long as his magic sustained it, Lucio could stay and they might be together a bit longer.

Still, he was sad. Lucio did not speak to him. Did not laugh or shout or rage. There was no desire or lust for power from his coeur. Cleaning him up, the Devil cooed, complimenting how pretty he looked clean, how delicious his body was-

He let the magic flow, revive the man just a bit, enough to get him hard, to feel the way the Devil moved inside him, to respond to the kisses he was given and to moan and sigh softly. It was all he could do. Anything more and his darling would panic. Beg him to die. To not have his throat cut. But no, the Devil would never do that again. He wasn’t a fool. In and out, the arcana moaned out loud on the seashore, grunting as he spilled into the cold body, knot locking them together and allowing him a chance to hold him- to cradle his lover longer.

Lucio had gone slack, eyes dull. Warmth stolen from the devil, the heat of his own cum cooled quickly in Lucio’s body, and it made the Devil frown. He kissed his love, even unresponsive as he was. Love- a human emotion, so strange yet thrilling. He loved Lucio? Maybe. He could not say for sure. Yet he hated the idea of losing him, letting him go. 

The sky turned to twilight, and the eyes of Death were on him. He did not care. Lifting Lucio us he spun them both in the sand, dancing to the crash of waves before he took them home- his realm of chains and fire and ash. How pretty he always thought. Lucio, pale and golden laying against obsidian stone. An angel that had lost it’s wings and fallen so far. 

 

Again, he slipped his magic into the body warming it, letting his love see, let him feel, breathe. Oh how he missed Lucio’s voice. How he missed his fire. When Lucio moved, lifting a leg the Devil snorted in glee, thrusting in with abandon, rutting him to fanatic in joy that he forgot the enchantments, the body growing still and cold before he’d even gotten a chance to knot and cum inside his human. 

“Naughty mon coeur.” he chided, Pushing magic in him again with a renewed thrust. “Trying to leave me.” The man’s head rolled back and forth, panting, hips lifting under the Devil’s claws. “You cannot leave me.” The arcana didn’t even know he wept. The tears wetting fur, running so quickly they dripped onto Lucio’s chest- a false image of sweat the Devil wanted to think it a sign of life and quickened his pace. His attentions never ceased. He loved Lucio, cared for Lucio. Dirty all over again, he licked his love clean, paying attention to his cock, stroking it, admiring how perfect it was, even after so long.  
“Never leave me mon coeur.” He whispered, leaning down, pressing his forehead to the other. Curling with him, the Devil did not need sleep, yet he enjoyed it- the sense of closeness, the illusion of what he desired. Of what could have been, had he not drawn the knife, if the plot had not been spoiled. If thing had just gone to plan.

Lucio was still, lifeless, cold. His soul trapped, yet not entirely there, slowly fading. The Devil knew this yet still held on, unwilling to give up what what his. He’d been so close, so willing in that moment to do anything to see the new world, to see what it would make. Lucio would have been immortal. Used or not, Lucio was his- and he….

He willed warmth into the body briefly, humming a song Lucio used to sing when he’d hunt. The Devil hummed, wondering if this was what humans felt. He wondered, if his pain was what it was like to lose what you loved most in your desire to have power.  
If this sorrow was what a human felt when they lost everything and were left with nothing but questions of what could have been.


End file.
